closing the door behind him. A
moment later he opened it again.

"Mr. Alston!" he said.

"Now for it," thought Reggie.

Mr. Gray was seated at his table and he motioned Reggie to the seat
usually assigned to clients, and there was a pause. Reggie felt all
his courage oozing out at the toes of his boots. All that he had
thought it possible he _might_ say to Mr. Gray on this question, all
his arguments, all his reasons, his pleas, seemed to melt away into
thin air, and he wondered however he had dared to interfere in another
man's life, and that man his master, even to the degree of wishing to
help him and praying for him, much more in openly offering him coffee,
and sending him out of the sight of condemning eyes!

But with the remembrance of that four months of daily prayer for this
man, came the remembrance of words spoken long ago to faint-hearted
men. "The battle is not yours, but God's." That made all the
difference.

Then Mr. Gray spoke, coldly, hardly.

"And now, Mr. Alston, what is the meaning of all this?"

Reggie leant forward eagerly.

"Mr. Gray, don't be angry, it was just Mr. Bowles coming along. I
saw him as I got outside and--and--you know what he is, and--I
thought--you could do the Muirend business--and--oh, I _wish_ you
would give up this strong drink, it is going to ruin you, body and
soul!"

It was out. The bitter truth had been put into words; the young clerk
had told his Manager that he knew his sin and degradation. The words
had been spoken, and never again could things be as they had been
before they were spoken, and Reggie knew it, and he knew that the man
who sat before him with his face shaded with his hand, was a proud,
proud man.

The clock ticked on loudly and evenly. There seemed nothing more for
Reggie to say, and Mr. Gray did not break the silence. He was filling
in the details of Reggie's broken words and he knew Mr. Bowles well
enough to do it very accurately. He had reason to believe that Mr.
Bowles had made a special visit on this special morning with intent.
He knew, ah, far more truly than Reggie did, that this temptation was
ruining his worldly position. Reggie had saved his reputation for this
time and he could not but thank him, and yet--and yet--how hard it was
to humble himself to say so; and there stretched before his weary eyes
those times, coming oftener and oftener, when his reputation would not
be saved, and he would sink lower in men's estimation, and that